


Love Cats

by nileflood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nileflood/pseuds/nileflood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gabriel the beautiful, intelligent, elegant and glamorous Siamese moves to a new town with his human he doesn’t expect that his life will be changed forever by the hulking beast of a cat sat in his yard.  Castiel’s life is changed too, but he’s not so important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Cats

**Author's Note:**

> The other title for this work is _How Dean and Castiel were Brought Together through the Medium of Cats _. I hope you enjoy.__

When Castiel wakes up, Gabriel is somewhere in the house bawling his head off. Gabriel’s bawling is actually the reason Castiel is up, because no one could sleep through that noise. It’s still dark outside; the orange glare of the street-lamp making the curtains of his room glow eerily and Castiel doesn’t bother switching on the bedside light as he panics, running down the stairs and calling out Gabriel’s name.  It’s too early for Gabriel to be up, he’s never up this early and there has to be something wrong. Why else would he shout like that?

The downstairs is as dark as it was upstairs, and Castiel bumps into cardboard boxes and furniture he hasn’t arranged yet in attempts to get to Gabriel. He’s not responded to his name, aside from shouting louder and incoherently.  And that makes Castiel slightly frantic, groping the walls to find the light switch, bathing his new living room in harsh white light. He blinks, the brightness stinging after the comforting darkness. Gabriel isn’t there, he knew that much already, the shouts muffled but with the light on he can see that one of the double doors at the other end of the room is open slightly. The kitchen. Where else would Gabriel be?

Oh Goodness, Castiel thinks. Gabriel is as used to the house as he is, he’s stumbled around in the dark and somehow got into the kitchen cupboards in the darkness and something Castiel packed away the night before, something shoved somewhere hastily has fallen and Gabriel is there, on the cold, uncaring tiles, hurt, bleeding.

Castiel doesn’t have time to tell himself that someone making so much noise isn’t really hurt too badly, racing into the kitchen through the dining room (the table is covered with boxes too, he can make up the shape of them in the dark) and into the kitchen.  He finds the light switch in a millisecond, his heart in his throat, his whole body tensed, preparing himself for what he might see.  Blood everywhere, the last ragged breath leaving Gabriel’s limp, feeble body, anything. It would be horrible. But he manages to calm himself. There is no crumpled heap on the floor.

In fact, Gabriel was on the window sill. He is sat there, nose against the glass, shouting his head off. The whole room is reflected in the dark glass; Castiel stood there in the doorway, posed like a mad-man in his pyjamas and robe and his arms braced against the frame, the boxes  piled around the room with ‘KITCHEN’ scrawled over them, the glossy while cupboards and the inky-black marble worktops, the gleam of the chrome sink. And the damned seal-point Siamese cat, shouting at the night.

It is not the first time Castiel had thought himself mad. He had led an ordered, sensible, quiet life. He taught, he read, he kept himself to himself. But a fellow professor‘s cat had kittens, and, in one of the strange moments where he attempted to seem more human to his colleagues, Castiel had bought one.  Without any knowledge of what he was getting himself into.  The woman had raised an eyebrow at him, and tried to tell him that Siamese weren’t normal cats, but Castiel, foolishly, and decided a cat would not be any difficulty at all. It would sleep by the fire place and follow him about the house. It would allow him to pet it. It would be a companion.

Gabriel was not a companion. He was a sentence. A comeuppance for all of Castiel’s past sins. Retribution sent by Divine decree. He was the vulture that would pick out his liver each day, every day, forever. 

And yet, Castiel loves him.

He sighs, stepping forward into the room and bending, hands on his knees, joining the cat at the window and peering out into the darkness too. There isn’t anything he can see out there, but Gabriel has much better vision.

“What is it?” He asks softly so whatever it is out there will not be startled, and the cat replies with a strange squawking noise, which Castiel interprets as _I don’t know. But I don’t like it._

“The door is locked. It cannot get in.” He reassures the cat, stroking along the creature’s back and Gabriel arches into his hand, apparently glad of the contact.

_If you say so, Cas. I’ll explore tomorrow. Whatever it is won’t dare come back again._

Castiel doesn’t have the heart to tell Gabriel that he will not be going outside tomorrow. The cat website he had consulted had advised to keep a cat in for at least 3 weeks after moving.  The truth is, Castiel might not even let him outside again after that. He does not want anything to happen to his friend and the roads here are busier, there are probably foxes too and they can carry away a cat. It might be best for him to become an indoors cat. Even if Gabriel will think that Castiel is punishing him for something.

_You’re up very early this morning, anyway.  Do you think you could feed me, while you’re here?_

“Oh, very well. This way.”

Gabriel’s food and water dishes (and in the down-stairs restroom, his earth box, but they won’t talk about that) were the first thing that were unpacked when they arrived in the house, and as Castiel fills them, he feels like yes, this could be a home. It’s a new town, a new job, a fresh start filled with new opportunities.  He smiles, because yes, he did the right thing moving them across the country. New opportunities.

His alarm clock, on the bedside table, reads 5:12 as he crawls back into bed, Gabriel happily fed downstairs and no doubt even now leaping gleefully from precariously heaped box to precariously heaped box.  But as there are no crashes, no yowls, and Castiel allows himself to go back to sleep, that smile still on his face. 

>^..^<

Gabriel seems used to his imposed incarceration now.  He doesn’t sit at the door when Castiel is busying himself with unpacking and howl _Help! Kidnappers! Thieves! Help! a_ nd wait for the neighbours to hear and come to his rescue. Castiel is yet to meet his neighbours at all, although he sees them once or twice and attempts a wave. But they are families with small children and as they try and fight them into car-seats, he understands they did not see him, they are not ignoring him. And he does not want to interrupt them.

He goes back to his unpacking. There is one box left, and for the time being, it is tucked into the under-stair cupboard. The house looks like a home; the bookshelves filled, the armchairs positioned, the curtains hung. Gabriel has delighted in climbing all of them, but Castiel is glad of that. He tells Gabriel off even so, but at least the cat is being himself, despite the move.  These are his usual japes; climbing curtains, chewing socks that have escaped the washing pile, stretching and dragging his claws through the hall-carpet.  And as Castiel attempts to chastise him for his naughtiness, Gabriel looks up at him, his eyes as big and as blue as Castiel’s own, looking soulful and sad, remorseful even, and Castiel looses steam. At that moment, Gabriel’s usual trick to shriek something rude and go cross-eyed, letting Castiel know he’s being mocked, and then run away. 

It happens this time too, and Castiel’s shoulders slump. He loves his cat he reminds himself, because sometimes he has to. Then he turns his attention back to his papers, to the forms and registrations he must have ready for his first day next week. His first day! A chance to meet his colleagues and form some bonds with the people here.  His old colleagues may have thought him kindly, but he was detached from them, private and quiet, and he is not to make the same mistake here. He is going to make friends.  Firm friends who will come to visit him in the evenings and they will share glasses of wine and laugh at entertaining things.

There is a hissing noise then, one that forces him from his reverie.  Gabriel, of course, screaming at something and although he knows the cat is safe inside, Castiel is a soft touch and goes to his rescue.

_Him! It was him!_

“Who?” Castiel asks patiently, fearing for the window frame, Gabriel’s talons scratching at it as he attempts to get out.

_HIM!  Look, there!_

But as Castiel looks up, out into the yard, the long tail is already disappearing into the shadow of the hedge.

“I’m sorry, I missed him. I’m sure he won’t come back, you must have scared him off.”

Gabriel makes a snorting sound. _That’s what you said last time, and he came back. If you let me out, I’d see him off..._

Castiel shakes his head, picking Gabriel up and carrying him away from the window that agitates him so.  It is probably best to keep Gabriel out of the kitchen, just so he won’t distress himself. It can’t be good for him to see other cats out and about when he can’t join them. Torturous even and Castiel feels ashamed for hurting his friend in such a way. He sets Gabriel down on the floor and goes back to his papers. Of course, the Siamese is on the table in under a second, his chocolate nose pressed against Castiel’s.

_Let me out!_

“No!” He was wrong, apparently, to think this was over. But it was, because by fluke of evolution, it was humans that had developed opposable thumbs, not cats. And as such, Castiel explains patiently, it is up to him when, and if, Gabriel leaves the house.

And that is that. Gabriel swears raucously again, leaps up and off the table, and back towards the kitchen. Castiel is not about to get up and go after him, but he leans back in his chair, to make sure Gabriel is not at the window. He isn’t. Instead there is a crunching sound, and Castiel relaxes.  Siamese cats have to have a special diet he was told, and Gabriel has one; one of rabbit and chicken. But what Gabriel prefers, and Castiel has never found out why, is the cheap cat-nip, salt and sugar filled cat-treats sold in bright plastic bags in supermarkets. He only has a few a day, because Castiel’s sanity cannot deal with a cat on a sugar high. Once the portion is dealt out, the bag is carefully hidden.  Castiel had made the mistake of leaving it out once when he went to answer the telephone and when he returned, scraps and slivers of the bag littered the floor, and Gabriel was noisy scoffing the last remaining cat treat before licking the sugary dust off the floor.

A few hours later he’d been horrifically sick all over Castiel’s bed, and once that was cleared up, Gabriel spent the rest of the day running everywhere and leaping off everything, as high as a kite.

Castiel goes back to his work. He has to finish this, and if Gabriel is sulking then he will take himself upstairs and sleep under the spare bed for the next few hours. Castiel could do with the peace and the quiet while he finishes off. And then to make amends, he’ll open a can of tuna and Gabriel will gorge himself on it until he can’t eat any more.  And tomorrow, everything will be back to normal, and Gabriel will have forgotten all about the other cat.

>^..^<

Cas is long gone. He left almost twenty-five minutes ago, but Gabriel has been waiting, just to see if he has gone out to the store, to see if he’ll be back. Normally he’s only away twenty minutes. This time though, he’s gone and not back and Gabriel knows this is his chance. The upstairs window is open in the back bedroom, and from there he can get on the kitchen roof and then he’s free. He’s going to find that grey monster and give him a piece of his mind. Doesn’t he know the hedges are boundaries? Between this one, and the fence over there, that’s Gabriel’s. No one, repeat NO ONE strays into Gabriel’s garden.

Maybe the window wasn’t open as much as he thought it was, because squeezing out of it hurt and now, stood on the kitchen roof, he realises he hasn’t thought about getting in again.  All great plans had flaws though. Castiel will just let him back in when he gets back, he’ll complain and tell Gabriel off, but none of it will stick.  From his landing spot on the roof it’s a hop-skip-and-a-jump and his paws, bruised from the hard tiles and prickly carpet, meet soft forgiving grass. He can’t help but knead the ground in appreciation, and then stops, dead. There is the rustling in the leaves, the sound of birds and all these noises he’d almost forgotten. Why Cas had kept him in Gabriel would never know, but being out again after so long was the most enjoyable thing in the world. Or it would have been.

There! There it was! He could smell it, he could hear it come closer, the unfamiliar cat who thought he could wander where he liked, do what he wanted. He was coming closer. And Gabriel would get him, beat him into submission. He’d not dare to sneak under the hedge again. Never ever never. Gabriel moves, sleek and beautiful, elegance itself honed into the shape of a killer, to the hedge, belly to the ground, his tail twitching, claws are the ready as he listens to his graceless opponent wriggling under the low branches of the hedge, the leaves trembling.

Almost...

Almost...

Now!

But Gabriel doesn’t move. Not an inch, not a muscle. The head that emerges from under the shadows of the evergreen isn’t that of a normal cat. This thing is a beast, a giant of feline kind and there is no way Gabriel could bring it down. Not with the size of those paws.

“Sweet bejebus!” Gabriel manages, the urge to pounce forgotten as he stands awed, the grey cat turning to look at him, a quirk in its features an obvious equivalent to a raised eyebrow.  “What the hells are you?” Gabriel continues, getting his legs to work and pacing in a wide arc around the stranger who does not look impressed.

And then out shot that huge paw, catching Gabriel squarely in the shoulder and sending him rolling over in the dirt. He’d wrongly assumed he was out of harm’s way, but clearly that reach was much bigger than he’d thought. 

And now Gigantor is just sitting there, licking a paw and ignoring Gabriel as he picks himself up and tries not to think about how long he spent this morning in Castiel’s clean laundry pile, cleaning himself off. All that time, wasted. 

“You’re on my patch!” Gabriel tells him, squaring up again, staying further back this time. The grey monster, three times his size at least, does not even have the decency to look vaguely threatened.

“Your patch?”

“My patch, Gigantor!”

Now that earned him a rather annoyed flick of the tail and Gabriel stepped backwards, just in case.  “My name is Sam. Not Gigantor.” The other says, and it’s got to be some sort of Maine Coon or Lion because nothing else is that big.  

Gabriel hisses, because he’s a Siamese, and this guy has out-stayed his welcome by a whole however long he’d been there.  It doesn’t send Sam the Gigantor running for the hills, like Gabriel would have liked, but he does stand up, slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, and saunters away, leaping over the low fence at the end of the garden and Gabriel runs after him.

“Yeah! And don’t come back!”

In celebration, he practises his pouncing on a couple of dandelion heads that are going to seed, his backside wriggling in the air. He is King of the Yard and no over-grown furballs or weeds are going to defy him.

Ten minutes later he’s on his back, bored out of his mind. There was an old stone wall in his last yard, with mouse holes in it and he could sit for hours there, waiting for one of the little snacks to pop its head out. But here, the garden is just a long flat rectangle of grass, full of weeds and nothing else. Booooooooring.

He stares up at the sky, although there’s nothing much up there apart from some stupid birds, not even flying low enough for him to pretend he can catch.  Higher up than the bird-brained birds there’s clouds. Grey ones.  Not that it interests him. You couldn’t chase clouds.

“I’m bored!” He yowls into the air, as if that will break the spell and something will happen. It doesn’t and Gabriel sighs, rolling onto his belly and getting up, padding towards the house and beginning to scratch at the kitchen door. No reply. Castiel is out, of course he is but it’s worth a try. Gabriel just lets himself sit on the slabs of concrete by the door.  It doesn’t do much to relieve the boredom.  But here at least he can sit and survey his kingdom for as long as he wants.

And that’s when the clouds break, the first few drops turning the pale-grey concrete at his paws to deep charcoal.  He bends his head, sniffing at the rain. It wouldn’t dare fall on him.

Moments later, he’s soaked.  He hates being wet. He hates being cold and right now he is both. Castiel was going to go mad with panic, Gabriel knows that and he feels bad for sneaking out. Sure he got rid of the trespasser but a bit of company would be nice right now. Especially tall company he can shelter under.

“Gigantor!” He shouts, at the top of his voice.

There’s no reply. “Sam!” He tries, and then again, mewing pitifully as the rain begins to dribble through his fur and down his skin, bringing a whole new wave of cold with it. He slumps down, trying to curl in on himself as the patio turns into one big puddle.  But it’s better than sitting on the grass and getting muddy. The last time he did that, Castiel put him in the B-A-T-H.  Gabriel knows that he’ll drown. Castiel has gone far away, and no one cares about the smart, beautiful Siamese left outside to catch a cold. They’ll find his body later, and someone will have a statue made of him. In bronze, maybe.

“What, no cat flap?” The voice is amused, and Gabriel peels one eye open, pretty certain his death-pose is near perfect. It’s the giant again, but he doesn’t look nearly so wet. It’s not fair, more rain should be falling on him, and he should be even wetter than Gabriel.  It’s logical.  “Come with me.” And that’s all he says, turning and heading back towards the short fence at the end of the yard. Not “I’ll help you get back inside” or “I know where your human is”. Nothing but a come-hither.

As an inspiring specimen of Siamese glory, Gabriel should ignore him.  He is at the pinnacle of the cat world, the height of feline evolution. But he is also damp and unhappy and cold, and so he trots after Sam, using his smaller size to his advantage and catching up fast, pressing into Sam’s side. To take shelter from the rain, of course.

They climb up and over, and there’s another yard. And then under another hedge, past a pond and some abandoned kid’s toys, and then under a gate. Sam knows where he’s going, because soon they’re in another yard, one across the road from Gabriel and Castiel’s house. This one isn’t as green as Gabriel’s garden. But there is more stuff, stuff to climb and sniff and, when the rain stops, sleep on.  Even the downpour isn’t really enough to dissuade him from sniffing at one of the wheel things, but Sam’s paw bats at him again, forces him back to pay attention to the route. Sam leads him just a little further, towards a broken grate in a wall which Sam’s bulk easily pushes aside. It’s warm in here, dry, and as Sam settles down, Gabriel takes the opportunity to gratefully flop on top of him.

>^..^<

Castiel is utterly certain he left none of the windows open when he left for work that morning, but there is Gabriel, looking slightly damp and a little... dusty,  sat on the doorstep.  As the car pulls up into the drive the cat gets to its feet, and as Castiel steps out onto the tarmac there he is, the little mocha-coloured creature entwining itself between his legs. It’s a good thing he didn’t stay late, didn’t try and suggest a drink to his colleagues. He’s not confident any of them would have agreed, anyway.

And Gabriel is being rather insistent. 

_I missed you so much! And I have so much to tell you about!_

“You do, do you?” Castiel says, and he tries to summon the anger and the fear back again. He wants to tell the cat how silly it was to go out into the unknown, to play near busy roads. But with Gabriel so obviously pleased to see him, so happy, Castiel just can’t do it. He stoops, picking the cat and cradling him in his arms, leaving his briefcase in the car for the time being. “You are such a brave cat. But you aren’t going to do that again, are you?”

_No, of course not. I’m all adventured out._

Castiel doesn’t believe any of it, unlocking the front door and setting Gabriel firmly down inside, as if to tell him to stay put now that he’s back, safe. It’s just a pity that he plans his seminars that night, and by the time he heads to bed he forgets to check the windows, and so Gabriel’s little way out into the world remains open.

When Castiel returns the next day and the Siamese is at the front door again, looking like the cat that got the cream- and yes, Castiel knows it is a terrible pun, he resolves to find out how Gabriel is getting out.  But as soon as they are in the house and Castiel is ready to begin his search, Gabriel is jumping up onto the hall-table, head-butting Castiel’s hip and demanding attention. It’s a rare treat for Gabriel to show him this much affection, and he can’t help but give the cat a long stroke from head to tail, and then a scratch behind the ears.

“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

The look that Gabriel gives him is hurt, offended and if it were possible, the cat would be pouting, his big eyes filled with crocodile’s tears.  All Castiel can do is pick him up again and carry him to the sofa, settling down with a book, his fingers working through soft pale fur.  He falls asleep like that, with the little cat curled up on his lap, and so for another day, the window stays open.

The day after that Gabriel is there again as Castiel arrives home from work. This time however he isn’t sat on the doorstep, prim and proper with his front paws together. He’s rolling around with an enormous grey cat and the pair of them are making a dreadful hullabaloo that must have had the neighbours watching them from behind their blinds. Gabriel has never had a fight with another cat before and Castiel’s chest tightens. He runs forward, scaring off the horrible grey monster and grabs Gabriel up from the dirty ground, checking him over for cuts or scratches that might get infected.  The little Siamese’s heart is pounding; Castiel can feel it as he holds Gabriel close to his chest.

Gabriel complains, no doubt saying that he could have beat the brute without Castiel’s help, but Castiel doesn’t care, taking his pet inside, shutting the door tight and then searches the house and finds the offending skylight. And when he does, he shuts it tight.

_You are such a spoil sport._

“It’s for your own good, Gabriel.”  He sighs, and feels like the parent of a wilful teenager as Gabriel turns on his heel and attempts to stomp off, only to be distracted by some interesting patch on the wall that stops him in his tracks.  Castiel can only shake his head and get on with his work.

That evening as he puts out Gabriel’s food, he’s surprised that his friend isn’t already there, eating as soon as the first morsel hits the ceramic dish. He’s usually there even before Castiel has found the little sachet of rabbit meat, he’s learnt to associate the sound of the fridge with food and he watches Castiel cook it with impatience. Most nights.

Castiel knew that somewhere in his house Gabriel is hiding. Under something, a bed, or in a cupboard with the door slightly ajar, or in the laundry basket. And Castiel knows that, because he knows his cat. And he knows his cat is sulking.  It doesn’t make it any easier to bear, but Castiel sets his jaw. He is doing what is best to keep his friend safe, even if Gabriel doesn’t have the capacity to understand that. Gabriel doesn’t know what could have happened, all the diseases he could have caught, and the pain he could have felt.  It’s lucky that Castiel arrived back when he did, and stopped that big bully of a cat from really hurting his delicate Siamese.

Gabriel’s moods, thankfully, never last too long. He is too playful and social a creature to stay away, no matter how terrible his perceived hurts.  Normally he slinks back downstairs unheard after about an hour, and within two hours they are firm friends again, Gabriel’s small paws batting at a little ball of silver paper across the carpeted floor.

So when Castiel comes into the kitchen and fetches himself his habitual before bedtime glass of water, he checks Gabriel’s bowl. Not a crumb has been touched. Gabriel hasn’t even had a lick of his dinner. And that makes Castiel worry.  He finds himself searching the house again, the second time in less than six hours. This time he’s not looking for a window, which has the manners to stay still, but for a cat that doesn’t seem to like him very much currently, who can creep around the house and hide in the place Castiel has just searched.

Castiel locates him though, in the darkest possible corner, underneath the bed in the spare room. Castiel can only see those eyes glowing, but he can hear Gabriel’s tail thump as it flicks from one side to another.  Castiel reaches out, into the shadows, and tries to persuade his cat to come out, to come and have some dinner, to make up. His heart soars when he feels a paw, soft, fluffy, touch the back of his hand.  But then there is the faint pain of tiny claws biting into his flesh. A warning. Castiel pulls back, alarmed, and looks at the red marks in his hand.

“Very well.” He says, and gets to his feet. He isn’t going to force Gabriel to do anything, it’s almost impossible to make him do something he doesn’t want and Castiel learnt that long ago. So he heads to bed, letting Gabriel continue his vendetta.

The next morning when Castiel comes downstairs the food bowl is empty, and as if nothing ever happened, Gabriel is sat on the kitchen table, washing his face with a paw.

_Sleep well?_

Castiel wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, but the fact their quarrel is over makes him feel much better. In truth, he didn’t sleep well, but he isn’t about to say that. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” He replies, and approaches. His hand moves slowly, cautiously, towards Gabriel’s head, and the cat butts against his fingers. Everything is normal again, and all is forgiven.

Castiel is glad it’s the weekend, and he allows himself more time than usual with Gabriel, playing with him, petting him and telling him how loved he is. Castiel will never let that nasty giant get Gabriel, will never let Gabriel be hurt or frightened again and by Saturday morning, Castiel thinks that Gabriel has probably forgotten all about the fight.  But then his beautiful friend spends the entire day sat at the kitchen window and screams as if his heart is breaking, and Castiel doesn’t know what to do. Stroking Gabriel doesn’t make him stop, talking to him doesn’t make him stop and Gabriel’s leaving most of his food uneaten. Maybe he is sick; maybe he does need to be checked by the veterinarian.  But then Castiel spots it- the looming form in the dusk of that grey cat, a cat that would have been more at home in the jungle, or Castiel thinks a little bitterly, in the Hound of the Baskervilles. But that is the reason that Gabriel is howling- the other cat is tormenting him.  The only thing he can do is close the blinds and carry Gabriel off, take him as far away as possible from the evil creature.

Gabriel follows him everywhere on Monday morning, even to the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, something he hasn’t done since he was a kitten. Castiel feels oddly touched, and spends a good five minutes stroking Gabriel when really he should be putting on his coat and making sure he has his keys. Gabriel needs him, loves him, appreciates that Castiel is trying to care for him. He understands, as far as it is possible for a cat to understand these things.  The last few minutes of his moment at home is therefore a mad rush, grabbing the wrong set of keys at first and then almost tripping over his trailing coat, just draped over his arm.  Then when he does get the front door open, Gabriel is right behind him, dashing out and away and across the road faster than Castiel can blink.

He drops everything even so, chasing after his friend and cursing Gabriel’s charlatan nature. But Gabriel is gone, diving under the gap in someone’s gate. Castiel comes to a stop on the sidewalk, staring after him. He should be going to work now. He has a class at 9am and he can’t be late. So he takes a breath. Gabriel will keep himself safe, he is sure on that, and when he returns home, Gabriel will be waiting for him. Probably bruised and battered and scared to death, but he will be there.

It hurts to stop, but he goes back, picking up his briefcase and his coat, shutting his front door and going back to his car. Gabriel will be fine. Castiel is sure of it.

>^..^<

The air was fresher, cleaner, and warmer than Gabriel had ever felt it before. Maybe not really, but it felt it. Freedom! Better than any other freedom he’d ever had before! Behind him Cas was shouting something, but with the wind in his fur as he bounded across the street, Gabriel just couldn’t hear exactly what his human was saying. 

“Sammy!” He calls, voice a high shriek and there is an answering boom from the branches of one of the trees in this yard. Gabriel doesn’t like climbing trees, but Sammy is up there, and he’ll make the effort. He gets half-way up the trunk before he can’t get any further, and drops back down. His inability to climb always has been his shame.  Despite his size, Sam gets down gracefully and lets the Siamese rub against him, circling the larger cat until Gabriel is so happy and so giddy that he almost falls over.  Sam tries to nudge him up again though, although not as gently as he should have done considering how dizzy Gabriel is now, and the smaller cat cartwheels over in the grass.

That’s the only invitation the pair of them need, rolling over and over on the grass together, until Gabriel thinks he smells more like Sam than Sam does. And then when they stop rolling and biting and Gabriel can stand again, even if he’s a little sore, they wander over to the windowsill of  some other house, and sit pressing together, watching the fish in the tank go this way and that. Gabriel is trying to decide which one he’ll eat first when the lady inside throws a slipper at them and they run off, Gabriel bounding excitedly over tufts of grass and trying to pounce on Sam’s back, Sam easily dodging the attempts.  Gabriel is just too small to make it work, and Sam finds it far too easy to pin the wriggly little thing to the ground.

“You are such an idiot.” Sam tells him after another unsuccessful effort, rolling Gabriel over. But there is amusement in his voice and  after Sam has released the mouthful of scruff he’d held onto, the pair curl up in their usual spot beyond the broken grate, by the hot air drier in Sam’s human’s house.

>^..^<

Today is a day for odd jobs. He’s spent the morning washing and polishing the Impala from top to bottom, and then fixing up the garage and then, in the afternoon, he heads down to the cellar. There’s a load of junk down there, and he should probably go through it all and clear it out.  But he stops as he’s climbing down the stairs, a flash of sunlight catching his eye and he realises the grate is broken. Fixing that is going to be a higher priority than tidying shit. Joining a ballet company is going to be a higher priority than tidying.

So Dean sets to work and when he’s done, he stands back to admire his handiwork. It’s not pretty, but it’s functional and that’s what matters. He turns, heading back towards the stairs and there’s a yawn. Not from him, and he turns, moving to what he thought was just a heap of clothes on his long-forgotten laundry pile. “Hey Sammy,” He mutters as he watches the cat stretch, even taller when he arches than normal. Dean can remember when Sam was only a kitten- it seems impossible that the tiny kitten that sat in his hand is now the huge thing that roams around the place like he owns it.

But Sammy isn’t the only thing moving.  Something pale, cream mostly but with cute coffee-coloured brown bits, unwinds from where it’s been curled and Dean takes a sharp intake of breath. “Whoa, Sammy, I didn’t know you could.” He laughs, and then a little harder at his pet’s unamused face.  Sam does not like to have his abilities mocked. Dean’s attention goes back to the gorgeous little thing, stood up now and blinking huge blue eyes at him- unbelievably pretty and how Sam managed it Dean will never know. But he picks her up, scratching behind those brown ears. “Hello beautiful.  Where did Sam find you? Sam doesn’t go to classy joints.”

The fancy cat- they’ve got a special name but Dean can’t damn well remember it- purrs at him and she tips her head as he scratches. “Well, I guess if you like Sammy, you can stay. What’s your name, Princess? Princess? No, that’s terrible. Sorry sweetie. How about Candy?” The cat seems to like that more than Princess anyway, and so it’s settled.

They’re kind of cute together, curling up on the seat of the sofa while he watches Doctor Sexy reruns that night. They’ve run about the house together, mostly ignoring Dean until he feeds them and then, after two minutes of solid eating, then Candy runs off again. Sam normally leaves some of his to eat later but she eats everything he puts in front of her, and then the rest of Sam’s. It’s not expensive food, and Dean can’t think it’s all that tasty, but she devours it. And that worries him. Two cats he can cope with, but he’s not sure if he can cope with two cats and their babies.

He finishes off the frozen pizza and watches Candy uncurl herself from Sam, stalking over to the plate he’s just put on the floor and sniffing at it. It’s like she’s never seen pizza crust before.  She must have fancy owners somewhere, ones that can afford a cat like her but, well, there’s no collar and he’s seen no posters.  Maybe they’re on holiday and don’t know she’s gone. He’ll just have to wait. Besides, he’ll never hear the end of it if he separates Sam and his girlfriend.  But he’ll never hear the end of it if he takes her back to her owners and she has massive grey kittens either.

The news is about to start and Dean really can’t be bothered to watch it, channel hopping until something catches his eye. The cats are bored too apparently, because Candy’s trying to groom Sam now and tame the wild grey-brown mane around his neck. Dean tried with a brush once and got scratched to hell for his trouble, but apparently Sammy prefers the feminine touch.  He lays still eyes open at Dean and Dean knows that Sammy is saying _Tell anyone about this, and I will kill you_.

“Hey! I’m not going to tell anyone.” Dean retorts, hands up in the air in a gesture of innocence.

_Better not._ And then all of Sam’s attention is back on his lady friend, pushing her off him and over. Dean raises an eyebrow, but when Sam moves over her and she squeals happily, but like nails on a chalkboard all the same, he gets up. “Didn’t want to see that.” He tells them, but clearly they don’t care.

He should probably let them go outside. He doesn’t like the idea of them being trapped in the house when he’s out at Bobby’s, but Candy clearly belongs to someone, and what if she gets hurt, or wanders off and Sam can’t find her?  He knows how guilty he’ll feel when he sees the Missing posters then, and he can’t stomach that. He wants to help people, and he can’t tell some family that he had their cat, their beautiful ‘Madame Butterfly’ or whatever fancy name she really has, but he doesn’t have her now. So he keeps them in.

Neither of them seems to care, after the first day. They’re happy to longue in the patches of sunlight and be waited on hand and foot.

Still, Candy is good company, bumping her little soft head up against Dean’s hand, purring when he speaks to her, as if she’s saying thank you. Sometimes, when she’s really pleased- like when he gives her pastrami out of his bagel- her eyes cross in this... well, it’s cute. There’s no denying it.  Sam seems happy too, contented and Dean can’t help but think they’re a nice little unit, the three of them. He wakes up in the night and they’re there, on his bed, curled into each other, one of Sam’s enormous paws stretched over Candy’s slender shoulders, her head resting against him.  A guilty little part of his says he should keep her, because she’s happy with Sammy and Sammy is happy with her and what’s wrong with a bit more happiness in the world?  They’re pretty much bound to have kittens and he doesn’t want to break up the family before the babies are even born.  He’ll keep them. Just for a bit longer. Then he’ll look for her owners.

>^..^<

It’s been a week. A week of sleepless nights. When sleep does come, it’s filled with nightmares. He should never have let Gabriel out, should never have moved. He should have remembered to replace his collar when he got the old one caught on the edge of the cabinet. He should have been a better owner. He should have made sure Gabriel had some company when he was at work. All the things he should have done. But now he can’t. Because Gabriel isn’t coming back.

He waited up past midnight the first two days. He wandered up and down the streets, calling.  No reply. He’s started leaving all the windows open, startled leaving food bowls of treats outside the door. At first he thought Gabriel was coming back to eat, but then, one morning, just as dawn breaks, he’s downstairs and he can see that is it’s not Gabriel. It’s a flat-faced Persian thing with “ZAR” written in diamante on its collar.  Castiel doesn’t have the heart to chase it away.

He calls up the local shelters, the city pound, and the animal charities. But no one has brought in a Siamese.  They’ll let him know, they say, in practised soothing tones that don’t really help.  They are trying their best, of course they are, they do this every day, day in, day out but it doesn’t bring Gabriel back.  His friend is gone, but they’d don’t understand.

Castiel knows he shouldn’t give up so easily. He goes to work and hopes that when he comes back, Gabriel will be waiting there, prim and proper, tail tucked in around him, as if he’d never been gone. Maybe he’ll be a little thinner, maybe he’ll have a more worldly expression, but he’ll be back.  But he isn’t. Castiel doesn’t know what to do. He refuses to put away the bowls. He can’t move Gabriel’s toys, he just can’t.

But he can’t just... he can’t. He can’t believe that Gabriel is gone forever. They’ve been through too much together for that to be true.  He sets his jaw, and lifts his head. He’s not been crying over his marking. No. He’s tired, and stressed, but he will not give up. He has never given up.  Never at all. And this will not be the first time.

He has printer paper upstairs and he grabs a whole handful of it. He has ‘the artistic skill of a gnat’ his 5th grade teacher had once said and Castiel still believes that to true. But he has to try, for Gabriel’s sake.  He sits up all evening doing it- finding the most recent picture of Gabriel he can, trying to describe him in a way that seems right.  It takes him hours and he’s crying again, remembering all the wonderful things Gabriel is, and all of the horrible things he is too. But that’s Gabriel, warts and all and Castiel wants him back more keenly than he’s ever wanted anything.  He dries his tears though, because it’s finished now and while, sensibly, he knows he should wait till morning, he’s already climbing the stairs to his little study, photocopying the poster until he’s got no ink left.  He only hopes it’s enough.

The first poster goes up in his window.  The second is tied to the lamp-post outside.  By the time it’s fully dark, Castiel doesn’t know where he is. He’s a ghost of a man, a shell, wandering dark and empty streets and tacking posters where-ever he can.  Maybe he should have brought the car, but there is no real point.  Not when he stops every fifty yards, at each new lamp-post. Part of him hopes that this will be his penance, that some Great Being will see him, pity him, and return his friend. He doesn’t usually have much faith in Divine beings, but perhaps tonight one of them will change that.

He walks a little further, around a corner and there are lights there, a shop he vaguely recognises.  He heads towards it, each step an effort and it doesn’t feel like he’s getting any closer.  His whole week has been like that though- he’s making the motions but not getting anywhere.  Let’s be honest, Castiel thinks. It’s not just this week, it’s his life.  His cat is his best friend. He’s lived in a new town for a month now and yet he doesn’t know anyone. He has colleagues and students and neighbours but they are all just faces. The only constant he has is Gabriel.

And then he’s there. At the store, bathed in its yellow strip lighting. It’s only little, a convenience mart, with bread and milk and wine and over-priced vegetables but there are people there. The cashier and someone buying something, products weighing down their arms and Castiel realises they are both looking at him.  He must look a mess. The clock on the wall says it’s well past midnight and he left the house about nine. Where he’s been he doesn’t know, but he knows he didn’t shave that morning. His shirt is untucked, his tie skewed and his trench-coat is unfastened and flapping in the wind. He probably looks like someone about to rob the store.

He’s surprised when he steps forward no one steps back, that no one mutters _Call the police._   No one says a word, so he moves to the check out, and puts one of the posters down on the desk. He’d never normally interrupt someone about to pay, he’s not rude. But this is an emergency.

“I have lost my cat. May I put this in your window?” He asks, and the clerk looks at him. Just looks at him like Castiel is probably mad, but presently has no idea if it’s a dangerous sort of madness, or just an embarrassing sort.

But the young man seems to make up his mind, his lips, in slow motion, ready to form a response and Castiel watches, his breath bated, waiting, unblinking.

And that’s why it is such a surprise when the man Castiel has pushed in front of speaks. “Hey, I know that cat.” He says, and puts down the cardboard box labelled as Four Cheese. “Yeah. She’s been with me the last few days.”

Castiel can feel the tears starting to fall again.

>^..^<

Dean offers the man a lift because if he doesn’t he thinks the man might drop down dead.  He’s not stopped thanking Dean either, although Dean really hasn’t done anything worth this many thank-yous. He just fed a cat that wandered into his home, into his heart.  Anyone would do the same, he says. And the man nods, because he knows it’s true.  He loves his cat, and that’s okay, even if Dean doesn’t exactly understand that level of devotion.

He doesn’t understand either that Candy isn’t actually Candy. She’s Gabriel. And actually, she’s a he.

“I would have noticed-“ Dean tries to protest, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the stranger’s revelation and he and Sam are going to have a long, long talk when he gets home.

“Oh, no. I had him neutered when he was a kitten. To, er, stop him wandering, believe it or not.”  Castiel says, and as his tone is just as nervous as Dean’s, the man lets them fall into a comfortable silence. It isn’t far to his house, in fact, he can see posters, like the one that Castiel had shown him in the store.  Castiel had been this way then.

“My house is that one, over there,” The man says, pointing out of the window towards a house that Dean doesn’t remember being sold, but nods, driving past just a little way and turning into his own drive. Castiel really can’t believe it. If Gabriel is here, if the man is right, and it seems so unlikely to be another Siamese, then Gabriel has been less than a hundred yards away all this time.

Dean shows him in, taking the man’s coat and hanging it on the banister as he calls for Sam and Can- no, Gabriel. Sam is the one that bounds down the stairs first, as heavy as a herd of elephants and from the look on Castiel’s face, he doesn’t much like Sam. But the sleek, elegant cream-and-brown cat follows, like a dancer, and then sees Castiel. All the elegance and poise is suddenly gone and Castiel has his arms full of cat, unable to press itself close enough, purring as loudly as a motorbike’s engine, twisting and curling and turning over and over in Castiel’s arms.

Dean is rather touched, actually. Sam has never shown him affection like that, and Dean doesn’t think he’d like it if the cat did

_No, you wouldn’t_ Sam answers, reading his thoughts.

But even so, it would be nice to know that he was appreciated, Dean glares back.

He slips away, the other man and his cat still in the middle of their reunion and Dean wants a coffee. He’s sure Castiel could do with one too, to steady his nerves and calm him down.  He’s just about to pour a healthy amount of whiskey into his cup and pauses, wondering if he should ask Castiel how he wants his coffee when a high-pitched little voice yowls at him from the floor.

He glances down at Candy-Gabriel and then up again, at Castiel. He has, if it’s possible, the same sort of eyes as his cat. All bright and intense, so alive and so full of emotion and Dean doesn’t know how to tell Castiel that one of the reasons he thought his cat was a girl was because of those eyes.  He’d just never met a man with eyes like that. Beautiful, expressive eyes that could see into your soul, could weasel right into your heart.  He can’t say that to the man, not if he thinks he might let slip that Castiel’s are just as overwhelming.  He doesn’t think it would go down well.

“Coffee?” He offers, wearing a little smile, a charming, slightly lopsided smile which brings out something similar in Castiel.

“That would be wonderful.” He replies, and settles into a chair at Dean’s kitchen table,  blushing when their knees knock.


End file.
